My Dear Daughter and Other Stories

A letter, a Loneliness

The letter came as a surprise- who would write to me, anyway? But there it said on the envelope: Sara M. K., c/o Hidayat Ali, No.12, HMT Layout, R.T. Nagar, Bengaluru. I opened it rather anxiously and found two sheets of paper inside. The name of the orphanage in the letterhead told me that it had something to do with Amar. The first sheet was a note in Urdu, a language I hardly knew. I couldn't make head or tail out of it, in spite of subjecting it to a thorough observation. Then I turned to the second sheet and I immediately realized what the first letter was about. It was a kind of cover letter, an apology from the warden for all the troubles caused, perhaps. It said, "I'm sorry Madam, but the boy insisted," or something to that effect. I read the second note-- which was in English-- with great joy. The big, curly letters, askew at places, had an undeniable childishness about it, and I knew at first glance that it was from Amar. It read, "My name amar. i india. you good. i happy. tank you." He had gone to great trouble for my sake, writing in a language he had just begun to learn. I read the letter over and over again, savouring each word in it. That night, Ishaan found me doubled up on the bed, crying.

* * *

Ishaan and I have been married for over a year. Ours was an arranged marriage but it was testimony to a special kind of love-- "special" because I'm not like any normal girl (or should I say 'woman', now that I'm twenty four and married?) Well, I have been leading a normal life till I found out that I am suffering from a not-that-common disease called SLE. Systematic Lupus something-- I never get the last word right, but doctors call it SLE so that's good enough for me. It is a rather determined kind of a disease-- it affects one's skin, joints, heart, lungs, kidney, nervous system, even the uterus and vagina, in case of women-- a disease determined to see you doomed for life. So I was quite shocked and disillusioned about life when I heard the diagnosis. I did not know what would become of me: will I be able to continue my studies, what kind of a career can I manage with this illness in hand, will I be able to take care of myself... oh God, what is to become of me? I was heartbroken. And so were my parents. They were probably worried that no one would want to marry me once they learn about this disease, and I don't blame them for thinking so. When we were all so steeped in fears and sorrow and uncertainty, Ishaan came as our saviour. He was a good friend of mine and the first thing he did when he heard of my sickness was come and ask for my hand in marriage. I was quite perplexed. I would have thought that he was making fun of me if I did not know him well enough.

"But I cannot be a proper wife, Ishaan; I'll not be able to do things that wives normally do for their husbands."

"You don't have to do anything," he said. "Only marry me and allow me to do everything for you."

I gave in to that large-heartedness that I later came to view as love. Ishaan loves me unconditionally. He does not mind the fact that we cannot have children-- pregnancy is a great risk in patients with advanced SLE. He is never tired of doing things for me. Every morning, he makes us tea while I get breakfast ready. He sweeps the house while I do the laundry. He takes the washed clothes to the terrace to hang them on the clothesline, as going up and down the stairs may harm my joints. He does the dishes at night and often makes the dinner. He massages my joints and rubs ointment on my back so that I get some relief from the excruciating pain. He is patient with me always, and helps me get through hard times with his perseverance. When he leaves for the office, I usually have nothing much to do. I read the newspaper and then take up a book or a journal. Sometimes I go back to bed and get some more sleep. Around eleven, I go to the kitchen, make lunch, have a bath and wait for Ishaan. Once the dishes are done, I'm free to watch TV or read or blog or sleep some more till seven when Ishaan comes back home. I've a pretty comfortable life for someone so sick, thanks to my beloved husband. Sometimes, I feel bad about not doing anything for him and detest myself for all the comforts that I deny him.